


Our Story

by orphan_account



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: AHH, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But it happened and now we’re here, Depressed Catra, F/F, Human Catra, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lots of Thinking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Sort of season 4 compliant, This is something that I wasn’t planning on writing, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You see, now, as Catra sits upon a chair built of grey metal, surrounded by nothing but her own slow breathing and a practically empty room, the only thing she feels is suffocation. Trapped within her mind that had been so tortured and maltreated over the past many years, all she wants is to scream and cry and break down into a quivering ball of sorrow on the floor. But, of course, she’s already done all that, and where did that get her? Nowhere. Such an unfortunate answer for one to behold. “Basically, this is Catra being sad and not knowing what the hell she’s doing with her life. Lots of her just thinking and reminiscing about what she’s done wrong in the past. Is she on the path to redemption in this story?....maybe.Not gonna lie, I’m not sure where this one is going, but I really liked writing it so yea.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Our Story

Catra was always fond of silence, and the way it brought her a certain feeling of serene bliss. Silence was her escape from the world named Etheria and its vicious atrocities, and a comforting blanket to shield her from the pain caused by others. It gave her time to think and to get lost in some other, happier place where no one could touch her and peace was bestowed across the land.

But maybe, the word that should be emphasized in these instances is “was” and how that one, single word depicts change and shift in character. You see, now, as Catra sits upon a chair built of grey metal, surrounded by nothing but her own slow breathing and a practically empty room, the only thing she feels is suffocation. Trapped within her mind that had been so tortured and maltreated over the past many years, all she wants is to scream and cry and break down into a quivering ball of sorrow on the floor. But, of course, she’s already done all that, and where did that get her? Nowhere. Such an unfortunate answer for one to behold. 

For this reason, she doesn’t do anything but sit in her dark room, with only a flickering lamp as a light source, and attempt to feel anything other than what her racing thoughts are telling her to. The thoughts that are so numerous and so jumbled up with hurt that they shine their focus upon anything and everything all at once.

A topic that she, unknowingly, allows to run through her mind that, at first glance, has seemingly no importance, is how Catra never, until recently and in a metaphorical sense, thought of herself as a claustrophobic type of person. As a matter of fact, she was always fond of tight spaces that only she could seem to fit into. Maybe the fondness came from the bubbling sense of superiority that would always erupt within her whenever she could do something others could not, or maybe it came from the feeling of safety and protection that each narrow passageway might provide. Either way, to her own bleak realization, none of that matters. All of that fondness was thrown down the drain, crushed by the weight of years, by distressing memories piling up, and most of all, the silence that she coped with on the daily.

Yet again, along with claustrophobia, Catra reaches the topic of suffocation. It seems to her that her harrowing thoughts she’s forced to live with are on a loop, never letting her sleep for fear of dreaming and never letting her truly exist for fear of disappointment. 

Now, one might be wondering as to why Catra doesn’t permit herself leave from her fear-inducing and negatively enveloping room. Why she doesn’t just find someone or even something to take up the empty space constantly left unfilled by the never-ending and discomforting quiet always encompassing her. However, if one did choose to ponder these things, they would not do so alone. For, you see, Catra herself wonders about ideas including these as well. She wonders why she forces others out, only to hurt herself in the long run. She wonders why she isolates herself when all she wants is love and acceptance from the few people who may have chosen to give it. She wonders so much about her own decisions and yet, understands so little.

Maybe, just maybe, Catra’s lack of understanding is the reason she bolts herself, alone, in her agony-filled room because, only then, could she thoroughly see what her mind is trying to tell her. Scratch that, what her mind has been screaming at her since she was taken in by the wrong set of people all those years ago as an infant. Regrettably, she can’t say she’s been successful in her efforts, a terribly and annoyingly accurate metaphor for the rest of her late decisions.

A recurring and quite empty thought of hers that always seems to burst through the silence is the sheer pointlessness of her actions and overall existence. The word, “pointless” stands out to her because that’s what she feels she’s made herself become. Also because that’s how she’s been seeing her line of thought even at this point. There’s no one left in Catra’s life, something she had wished not to admit but was compelled to acknowledge due to the words of the only person who ever genuinely betrayed her, Double Trouble. A fitting name really.

Not too long ago, even though it feels like a century has passed since then, there was one person Catra considered her own form of salvation. One person who smiled ever-so-brightly even in the worst of situations and made her feel that life was worth living, all the while making the silence that existed even more bearable and pleasant. This person who genuinely cared and would have probably given her life for her. This person who she thought of as an ally, as a friend, and as someone she was so irrevocably in love with that she felt as though she could contently die as long as she knew said person felt the same. She never did have the courage to speak any of these facts aloud, yet again letting fear take hold and steer her away from the path she knew she should’ve taken the moment it was too far from her reach. 

Never did Catra expect she would be so ignorant as to lose this amazing person from her, otherwise, horrific life. Oh, how she misses this girl who always seems to have her mind and her heart in the right place, fighting not just for herself but consistently for everyone else as well. As a matter of fact, just fully fighting at all is a feat Catra herself is yet to accomplish. The fighting and fierceness she might show on the battlefield towards this person she shared much of her past with is a farce at heart, a mask dying to be removed just like the one she dons upon her face each day. 

Adora. The name bounces around like a bullet in her mind, resonating off of every surface and leaving it’s deep imprint like a tattoo everywhere it touches. So many emotions are carried along with the name, so many that Catra doesn’t even notice when the tears start spilling from her eyes at the thoughts. Catra’s face burns with resentment towards herself for permitting jealousy to control her for so long and for allowing said jealousy to eventually push the ever-persistent Adora away.

It’s now, with tears covering her face and the silence finally broken by the sounds of her heaving sobs, that she stands up from the chair from which she had been sat for who knows how long. She doesn’t break down just as she wordlessly promised herself, but she does, with quite broken strides, walk over to a desk a flip another light on.

This light is no warmer than the other that was already on, casting an even more unwelcoming and disheartening energy across the room. It blinds her for a moment due to the sudden change in brightness, but none of this deters her. For too long Catra has waited in silence for some sort of miracle to happen. For too long she has wasted her void of a life, doing anything that seems right, but equally self-serving, in the moment, for her so that she might survive for just a while longer. But in reality she doesn’t want to just survive, she wants to live. 

Catra slowly, and with a vague hesitation for anxiety of possible events to come, grabs a pen and paper and starts writing, writing with tears still plastered to her face, but now beginning to dry. Writing ferociously and as much as she can even though her time to do so was probably unlimited. The letters appeared more scraggly than usual, but at least they were coming out and being admitted to. At least her mind had finally ceased its racing for a moment while she focused all her undivided attention to the words on the paper before her. 

Finally, putting the pen down, Catra’s chest rose and fell as she sighed deeply multiple times as if out of breath from sprinting a long distance. It all seemed so simple. She had finished her thoughts so she grabbed the paper and ran to the other side of her room, slamming the door open. 

For a brief second she halted. Doubt and resistance to fulfill her goal almost drowned her mind, but she was no longer stuck in that painful silence anymore, even though no one had spoken. She steeled herself in a brave fashion and began moving forward, her first steps outside the room completely contrasting how they used to feel. How she could feel so different after just a simple matter of time was a mystery to her, but one she knew could be handled some other day.

There wasn’t a perfectly clear idea in her mind of what she was doing or, generally, getting herself into, but that was of no matter for she just started running and didn’t stop doing so for a long while. Meanwhile, the paper that she held, crinkled in her hand, was acting as her lifeline. The words and scribbles etched across the once blank slate kept her steady and reminded her of the change necessary to set things right between her and everyone she had wronged, and between her and life itself. The words that could be seen, if given enough attention, began as many greetings do, saying five straightforward words that clearly made out as, “Dear Adora, I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thank you guys so much for reading! This is my first fic, even though I’ve read about a hundred of them, for these two girls and I promise that they will have an interaction within the next chapter if you choose to stick with me on this. Anyway, please feel free to leave support in the form of comments and kudos down below!


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